…a little storytelling…

Like anyone who gets news via the Internet, I am daily confronted with photos of bubbas with their big bellies and big guns and big belligerence thinking they’re standing up for their rights or their freedoms or what-the-hell ever. I’m always trying to think of names for them (beyond “white supremacists”): bevy of bumpkins? rabble of rednecks? herd of hillbillies? obstinacy of oafs?

It’s a fun game, but because I’m a storyteller, I have another level of fun. I come up with tales about them.

First, I must establish character. These dudes likely never served in the military, and if they’re hunters, they don’t need the weapons they brandish for a squirrel, a rabbit, a deer, etc. Their fallback reason for gun ownership is that they’re protecting their homes and families. I know and love people who say and do the same, although none of them are out waving their guns in public and showing up in my Twitter feed, and I thank y’all for that.

Next, I must think about setting. They are not home protecting their homes and families. They’re standing around businesses and government buildings bullying and berating other people–which I have to tell you, if I were going to a government building to do business and saw them posturing and carrying on, I’d forego a driver’s license or marriage license or building permit and just go home.

Home. Where they should be. You know. To protect their families and property.

Now I have to develop story, and story needs conflict. I pick one from the group–we’ll call him Big Dude–and imagine his home life. I don’t know what his job is, but he gets by. He lives in a decent house on an acre of land. He’s married to Missy and they have two kids who are elementary school age. Missy works for an insurance company and during the Time of Corona, she’s able to work from home. She’s trying to do her job and home school their kids and probably clean the bathroom and let the dog in and out ten times a day. A little help would be nice, but Big Dude is not there. He’s gone somewhere with his friends to stand up for his rights. It’s beginning to be a bit of a pain for her, quite honestly.

Big Dude’s second cousin, Good Ol’ Brian, comes over looking for Big Dude to get help fixing his garage door. Brian has been divorced a few years and has no children, so he’s a kind of honorary uncle to his friends’ kids. When he comes in the house, he can see at a glance that Missy is off the hook. In no time at all, he’s got the kids in the kitchen watching Sponge Bob on his tablet while he makes grilled cheese sandwiches and heats up a can of tomato soup. The dog stays on high alert for a falling bread crust and is finally out from under Missy’s feet.

Meanwhile, Missy answers three emails, takes a load of clothes out of the dryer, refills it, and begins washing a load of sheets. She takes two minutes of precious alone time to pee (she doesn’t forget to wash her hands afterward) and brush her hair, which she forgot to do that morning. When she heads back to her computer, Brian calls her into the kitchen. The kids are eating and laughing at Sponge Bob. Brian points to her place at the table, where he’s put a steaming bowl of soup, a diagonally cut grilled cheese sandwich, and a fresh cup of coffee.

Big Dude, you really should have stayed home and protected your family. Won’t be long and you’ll be discovering a whole new meaning to social distancing.

Love,
Team Brian